Ghosting
by Johnny Appleseed Lives
Summary: Gilbert sets his bags down and looks around the empty hallway. "Hah," He mutters to himself, "Look at this adult, Luddy, buying his own adult house, wearin' his adult pants, payin' his adult bills and- HOLY WHAT WAS THAT!" In which Matthew is (not actually) a ghost haunting Gilbert's new house.
1. Chapter 1

Well, he figures this is it. Matthew looks down at the white sheet folded on the bed in front of him. He can find his brother and follow him around for the rest of his life, the unnoticed third-wheel. Or he can travel; maybe see some of the world. But, no. That won't work. Being around Gilbert proved that he couldn't even buy groceries for himself, let alone plane tickets. Would online work? Better not risk it. He could just sneak into people's houses and- No, no, no. He could never steal from people. Except his brother, but does that count as theft?

Running out of ways to procrastinate and delay his (withdrawal, escape, fading away?), Matthew turns and begins padding softly out of their house. HIS house. No, Gilbert's house. He reaches the front door, reaches for the handle... and hesitates. Just for a second. Just enough time to remember everything. Just enough time to regret. Is he doing the right thing? Would it be so bad if he stayed? Maybe they could-? And- Would-? But-? Yes! No. Will-

Will Gilbert miss him?

Matthew shakes his head and turns the handle, the hinges protesting as the door opened and light floods the entryway. He takes one last look around. No more cobwebs in the corner, no dust illuminated by the light. The abused furniture replaced and pictures added on the wall. It looks lived in, inviting, like a home, everything it shouldn't to Matthew.

He takes a step over the threshold.

* * *

(One Year Earlier)

Matthew watched as Alfred rose from the couch at the sound of a knock on the door. From his vantage point on the stairs he could see an unfamiliar woman standing past the doorway. Alfred shook the woman's hand and they began talking about something. It sounded like business.

Matthew tuned out their voices as he took in the muted American football game, his gaze drifting around the dusty living room. Alfred hadn't been at home much in the past few months, ever since he got serious with his cranky boyfriend Arthur. Cobwebs had been building up in the corners of the rooms, and the furniture sent up a cloud of dust whenever Alfred decided to drop back in and restock the refrigerator. At the thought of food, Matthew's stomach grumbled loudly, and he softly got up and drifted to the pantry. Snagging a piece of bread, he began shuffling back to the stairs, but veered to the left and softly blew on the back of Alfred's neck. Matthew giggled as Alfred jumped, and began climbing the stairs to his room, the lady looking on confused while Alfred spun around deliriously.

By the time Matthew came back down the stairs, the stranger had left, and Alfred's keys weren't in the dish by the door. He sighed, resigning himself to another night alone in their small, empty house. At least he could finally watch hockey again.

* * *

Alfred had originally bought the house after he caught his first permanent, and current, job working construction, where he met Arthur on an assignment. He didn't know why he had bought a two-bedroom house, instead of a small apartment (Matthew had tagged along when he was searching real-estate and whispered 'suggestions' in his ear), but he liked the cozy little house, and skillfully ignored the weird noises he (totally didn't) hear, like there was someone else in the house with him. But Arthur had been hinting, then adorably blushing into his tea, about having Alfred move into his flat (something Alfred was _thrilled_ about. Not because his house is haunted or anything. Hah hah, nothing like _that_ ). He and the real-estate agent had decided to meet again later that week, and Alfred could finally start to pack. With that happy thought, he grabbed his keys and started on his way to his eye-browed brit's flat.


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew gaped as he watched Alfred load the last of his stuff into the moving van. What was he doing!? He hadn't even repainted the walls! Did he have a buyer lined up yet- wait, wait, wait. That didn't matter. What was Matthew going to do? With his brother gone, how was he going to feed himself? And who would pay the bills so Matthew could watch hockey?

The last time Alfred moved, Matthew just went with him, but this time he was moving in with _someone_. Moving in with _Arthur_ , who wouldn't just ignore all the strange occurrences that Alfred had disregarded (for his sanity) for years.

Matthew dropped his head into his hands. "What am I supposed to do?" he mumbled into his fingers. What could he do?

* * *

A few days later, when Matthew had almost exhausted his food supply stashed up in his room, he heard a car pull into the driveway. His heart was pounding as he jumped up and raced down the stairs as the front door opened. He watched as a figure stepped into the room. It was-

It was the real-estate agent, mumbling to herself as she looked around the hallway.

Matthew let out his breath, not aware that he had been holding it. Who had he expected anyways?

Downhearted, he listened to the agent mutter as she poked around the room. "Ugh, this place is such a dump. I don't think we can sell it for much Joe." What? Who is… Oh, she had a blue-tooth in her ear. Matthew laughed, Alfred could never keep those. He always lost them within days of getting them. In fact, once he sat on one after a particularly bad- Wait, she's still talking.

"I have a few buyers interested, mostly just-married types, looking for a small first house. And one single guy with this crazy last name. Bell-, Biel-, Beil- something, I don't know. I can't even begin to spell it. Anyways, maybe we can…" Her voice trailed off as she walked into the kitchen, leaving Matthew standing on the stairs thinking about how he could work with this.

He couldn't stay in the house with honeymoon couples, he would feel too guilty taking their room and food, not to mention creepy and invasive. But maybe that other man?

He wandered off the stairs and followed the agent into the kitchen, peering over her shoulder at some papers she had set out on the counter. There were names and some basic information about the couples. What was his name? Beil- something or other? Matthew looked down the list of names. Mindy and Lenny Johnson, no. Berwald Oxenstier-whatia and Tino Väinä- nope. Not even gonna try. Where is that- Ah! There! Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Matthew leaned close to the woman, who had stopped talking to her blue-tooth and seemed to be searching through the papers for something. "The single guy looks like the best choice. The one with the last name Beilschmidt. Maybe you should follow up on him?"

The agent nodded slowly as she reached for her blue-tooth as she softly repeated, "Yeah, Gilbert. He has a decent background, and I can't stand being around those dopey eyed couples." She perked up as her call connected. "Hey Joe, I'm thinkin' we should contact that Beil- what is it? Beilschmidt guy. Yeah, he's looking like the best option right now. Yeah. Yeah, I'm heading back to the office now."

With that she shuffled her papers, grabbed her briefcase, and headed out the door.

Matthew slumped in relief on the counter. Now he just had to survive until this Gilbert moved in. Hopefully he was an idiot like his brother.

* * *

Author's note: There will be lots of "Matthew watched" in the first few chapters because he hasn't had a real conversation in years, and is so used to observing that he doesn't even talk to himself anymore. Eventually he will start conversing again, but not until Gilbert is settled into the house.

On a side note, I'm naming the house Henry :)


	3. Chapter 3

This, _Gilbert_ , didn't look like much. He came by the house with the real-estate agent and took a tour of the house. He was handsome enough, with a shock of white hair, deep red eyes and a strong jaw, and was living with his younger brother, but he seemed... directionless. Matthew watched as he waltzed through the house, his boots thudding on the creaky floorboards. Gilbert never actually inspected anything, just glanced at the walls and door frames then looked away just as quickly, wandering from room to room. The only thing he spent any time on was an old picture of Alfred and Matthew as children, before Matthew started ghosting. Matthew had kept it in his room until Alfred left, when he put it back up on the wall in the living room. It had always made Alfred confused and sick if anything reminded him of Matthew, so he tended to hide the things from their old home.

Eventually they both left, the woman locking the door behind them. They talked on the front porch for a bit, and Matthew heard Gilbert say good-bye and get in his car. He winced at the sound of Gilbert's tires shrieking on the pavement as he peeled away. The agent stood on the front porch for a few minutes talking, her words too muffled by the door to hear.

Matthew drooped backwards, the hard edge of the stairs cutting into his spine as he stared at the ceiling. 'Well, this might work,' he thought, adjusting his position on the stairs. 'He seems absent minded enough, maybe he won't notice me ghosting around.' Matthew's thoughts drifted back to that white hair and pale skin. He giggled, and thought that Gilbert looks more like a ghost than him. He smiled to himself, but suddenly bolted upright, an idea blinking into existence.

He breathed, "What if _I_ was the ghost."

His grin widened. "This is going to be _fantastic_."

* * *

He had heard rumors about this house.

Not from the homeowner, this real jerk-but-still-awesome-guy Alfred, but the neighbors were these (awesome!) gossiping old ladies who couldn't shut up about all the weird things they had heard about it (while setting up a date so that he could come join their crochet group- _The Hookers_. Heh. Knitting puns.) But who cares about ghosts? He just bought a house.

Let him repeat that.

 _He just bought a freakin' house._

Gilbert set his bags down and looked around the empty hallway. "Hah," He muttered to himself, "Look at this adult, Luddy, buying his own adult house, wearin' his adult pants, payin' his adult bills and- HOLY WHAT WAS THAT!" A flash of white. He spun around frantically, but only saw an empty hallway. THERE WAS SOMETHING THERE JUST A SECOND AGO. ARGG, just, no, okay. Just those old ladies getting to him. There's no such thing as ghosts, hah. Nothing to be afraid o- "EEAAAAAAAIII!II!I!" Gilbert shrieked as he heard a patter of footsteps on the floor above him.

He launched himself at the door, flung it open and stumbled onto the grass in the front lawn, flopping down face first and moaning into the dirt. Figures he would buy a haunted house.

* * *

Matthew watched from the doorway as the albino lay in the grass motionless for about an hour. Growing worried, he stepped outside and walked over to his prone body. He crouched down and listened to the man's steady breathing for a second before heading back inside and up to his room. He leaned against the door and pulled the white sheet off of his head, dropping it on the ground next to his feet.

Spreading rumors about the 'haunted house' had been such a great idea until Matthew saw Gilbert's reaction. It was _way_ too easy to scare him. Maybe he had a fear of ghosts? What if he didn't keep the house? Could he even sell it or did he have some sort of wait period before he could- wait, wait, wait. What had he done?

Matthew sunk to the floor and cradled his head in his hands, shaking it back and forth as he sighed. This was just supposed to be some fun way to spook the new resident, not chase him out of Matthew's home!

He sat and wallowed for a few more minutes, till he heard the sound of the door. Matthew got up softly and crept down the stairs. Gilbert was sidling in; the door opened just enough to let his body through. He reached behind him and pulled out a candle (Where the HECK did he get that from?), lighting it with a pocket lighter. "Oh kind spirit," Gilbert said, "Please forgive me for intruding upon your burial ground." He took a deep solemn breath, scrunching up his race. "I leave this hand knitted hat which, actually, you probably can't touch. What a waste of a perfectly good cable-knit! Maybe I should go buy some incense…" He started mumbling to himself, absentmindedly chewing on his thumbnail. He brought his other hand to his face, forgetting about the flaming candle, and jumped when he burned the tip of his nose.

Gilbert dropped the (still burning) candle onto the floor and started fanning his singed nose, doing a strange dance hop-dance-shimmy at the same time. He spun around the room for a second, looking for something, before he darted into the kitchen cursing. Gilbert turned on the tap and stuck his head under the stream, yelping as the freezing water hit him in the face. He shook his head, looking like a miserable wet dog.

Matthew was wheezing at this point, doubled over laughing. This man was ridiculous! He looked like a 'tortured soul,' but he was just a huge dork. Matthew fell back on the stairs, curling up as he gasped for breath.

Gilbert suddenly stopped, head cocked and listening. He turned his head in Matthew's direction, searching for something. Matthew froze, staring back into his crimson eyes.

"Are… are you laughing?"


	4. Chapter 4

Matthew was sitting next to Gilbert giggling as the albino tried and failed to get off the shopping channel Matthew had locked the television on. He cursed as he uselessly pressed every button on the remote with a vengeance.

"Come on Ghost! I know this was you! This is not awesome!" He yelled to the room. Gilbert turned back to the TV grumbling, resigning himself to the mind-numbing infomercials.

Gilbert had started calling Matthew 'Ghost' since they started living together a week earlier. Every once in a while he could hear Matthew laugh or could pick out some other small noises he made, but for the most part Gilbert didn't seem to react to Matthew's presence at all. When Matthew thought the (self-proclaimed) Prussian could see him on the first day he had jumped up, heart beating wildly, and started talking, yelling, gesturing, everything he hadn't been able to do in years. But he realized Gilbert was still focused on the spot he had been before, and hadn't noticed him at all. He sighed (tired resignation).

So they had settled into a strange routine. Matthew would do small things to get Gilberts attention, and Gilbert would fume silently (as silent as Gilbert could be). After the first couple days Matthew had noticed Gilbert's sad excuses for nutrition - cereal and candy - and started cooking meals for him, something that was warily but gleefully received.

Matthew, still laughing, sat down next to Gilbert on the sofa. He reached over and plucked the remote from Gilbert's hands, making him jump and let out a(n awesomely manly) squeak. "Oh man up, you big baby," Matthew muttered. He unlocked the T.V. and started scrolling through the channels, looking for something worth watching.

Gilbert slowly relaxed next to him, staring suspiciously at the floating remote. When Matthew settled on a documentary about Europe he perked up, smiling at the screen. "Did I tell you about the awesomeness of Prussia?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. "Why no Gilbert, only a thousand times."

"The awesome me was born in Prussia, and my little brother Luddy was born in Germany, so we had the most awesome nicknames for each other! I was-"

"Osten and he was westen-"

"-which mean-"

"East and west in German, I know. You're almost as bad as Alfred, and that's saying something" Matthew sighed and settled back into the cushions. This was going to be a long ride.

* * *

"Hey Ghost!"

Matthew groaned and sunk into his mattress. _Maybe if I ignore him, he'll forget about me,_ he thought.

"Ghooooost! Ghost ghost ghost ghost ghostghostghostghostghost, woo that's a tongue twister."

Matthew tromped down the stairs. "Yes, you dork," he mumbled as he walked into the kitchen. Gilbert was facing away from the stairs, looking at something at the kitchen counter.

"Hey hey! Are you there? I heard footsteps. Lift that measuring cup if you're there," Gilbert called, pointing at a cup surrounded by other ingredients on the counter.

Matthew obliged.

"Okay, awesome! So," he turned around, holding his phone in his hand scrolling through the screen, "those pancakes you made the other day were awesome," (Matthew preened), "and I wanna try making them for Westen and Feli. They finally moved in together, and we're celebrating at their new house, which is just Westen's old house, boring. Why didn't they move into Feli's, his house is way better. But Lovi's still there. But he's totally gonna move in with Antonio soon, as soon as he..."

Matthew tuned him out as he blathered about an angry Italian that Gilbert seemed to fear. He wandered over to the ingredients on the counter. He did have everything for making pancakes, apparently from scratch. Matthew refused to make them out of a box anymore, and since he had more than enough time after Alfred moved out, he could finally make them from scratch. He smiled softly as he picked up a mixing bowl and stepped towards the sink. He had missed this.

* * *

Gilbert stood silently, looking at the man by the sink. His hair glowed in the sunlight that streamed through the window, reflecting off of his violet eyes. 'Ghost' started humming softly as he turned on the faucet and stuck the mixing bowl under the spray. Gilbert's jaw unclenched (Why was he so tense!?) as 'Ghost' swayed his lithe body to the tune, his baggy t-shirt and sweatpants hiding (surprisingly) little.

Gilbert rocked on his feet as the angel sent from above scrunched up his face, smiling as he did such a mundane task. His hip hit the counter, throwing him off balance. The albino threw out his arms, reaching for something to steady himself. His hand hit something and he latched onto it, letting out a surprised squeak when it gave way under his fingers. He tumbled onto the ground, the flour bag he had grabbed upending and spilling all over his disheveled body, his phone clattering to the ground. His angel turned around, those lavender eyes widening as Gilbert closed his eyes and let his head drop with a thunk to the ground.

* * *

Matthew startled when he heard a clattering sound behind him. He spun on his heel and took in the mess on the kitchen floor. Gilbert was lying on the ground, completely covered with a fine layer of flour. He looked even paler than usual (probably because of the flour) and his eyes rolled back in his head as his head dropped and his body relaxed. Matthew threw himself onto the floor next to Gilbert's unconscious? body, checking his head for any sign of damage.

"Ahhhg, what do you do if there's a concussion? Check for trauma? Check for... breathing? Mouth-to-mouth? No no no, that's heart failure." He looked around, flustered. "Ummm, wait! If it's red, lift the tail, no that's not it. If it's red, lift the head. If it's pale, lift the... tail? He does seem very pale." Matthew breathed nervously as he gently put his arms under Gilbert's lower back and lifted his lower half off of the ground.

"Oooo, please wake up," he hissed as he stared at Gilberts slack face.

He chewed on his lip until Gilbert started shifting, groaning as he tightened his face. His eyes blinked open. Matthew exhaled, relieved.

* * *

Gilbert opened his eyes to the face of his beloved just inches from his own. His worried (He should never look worried, it mangles his crafted features) eyes closed as he softly breathed out.

Gilbert thought this was an awesome way to wake up. Cradled in the arms of a beautiful man.

"My angel," he sighed.

"Wait, what?"

* * *

Author's note: GAH Gilbert! _Why_ do you _italicize_ so many _things_! (And all the parentheses!) On a side note, Gilbert's thought process got very poetic and grammatically correct because he's secretly romantic and listens to Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer while knitting. The dork.


End file.
